


dandelion

by princealliance (anaksemuabangsa)



Series: pretty words [1]
Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Heartbreak, M/M, Moving On, Sad Mark Lee (NCT), graphic description of baekhyun driving, graphic description of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:06:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24141787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaksemuabangsa/pseuds/princealliance
Summary: Somewhere along the line of his heartbreak, Mark familiarises himself with the shape of Baekhyun's smile.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Mark Lee (NCT), one sided mark lee/kim jongin
Series: pretty words [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004352
Comments: 51
Kudos: 247





	dandelion

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I would like to thank TD for giving this fic a screen. Also, I would like to thank my brain, because. I have no more words. Just glad that this is done and over with. This fic is unbeta'd, so expect mistakes.
> 
> there's a playlist now for this fic, if you're interested, here's the link:
> 
> [dandelion playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuKNvaLuttK8nCAvE9gRTtjOus6tFAyLY)
> 
> UPDATE: I tweeted a bunch of things about Baekhyun's aesthetic and added a side porn story on twt. I compiled it on a thread [here](https://twitter.com/diorboybaek/status/1260095612302684160?s=20). Will also put the link at the bottom notes in case you want to look at it after you read the fic <3

+++

_Making eyes at this husk around my heart_

_I see through you when we're sitting in the dark_

_So give me your filth_

_Make it rough_

_Let me, let me trash your love_

+++

The soju burns as it goes down.

Mark's bottle knocks against the hard wood of the low coffee table when he sets it down. He never did like soju, despite learning how to drink in Korea. Despite Doyoung's insistence that it tastes good with Yakult and just a little bit of soda. If it was his choice, he'd prefer something like Tequila. In tiny glass shots. Vodka if he's feeling brave enough. Something with a higher alcohol content that gets him there faster. Gets him shitfaced with barely any effort. Will give him a headache but none of the mess of nausea that two bottles of soju will give him.

He grins, chapped lips stretching, head lolling back to the back of the couch. The dorm feels empty, _is_ empty. That's the whole point of a holiday, isn't it?

There are ghosts in here, phantom whispers and touches.

 _It's not good to get drunk on your own._ It's naggy, and it echoes in Doyoung's whiny voice on the back of his consciousness. A little bit of Taeyong's _Mark, are you okay?_ seeps in. A bit of Johnny's quiet indulgence of Mark's more destructive habits, his warm hand on the back of Mark's neck. Donghyuck's eyeroll. Taeil's disapproving frown. Yuta's unblinking indifference. Jaehyun would take the bottle from his hand, maybe, lay down on top of him until Mark falls asleep or tell him his problems.

If Jungwoo was here, he'd sit by Mark's legs on the floor, would watch the TV with him and lets Mark get drunk and not-ramble until he'd fall asleep. Jungwoo would make sure Mark brushes his teeth and drinks his customary glass of water so he doesn't retch in the morning.

Renjun would scold him, definitely. Jaemin would just cry at him. What would Jeno do? He wonders. Chenle? Jisungie? Yukhei? Ten?

They're not here, the thing is.

That's not the problem.

Honestly, Mark forgot what his problem was halfway into his second bottle of soju. He's on his third, and the artificial melon taste of it doesn't get any less sickening with every gulp of the thing.

He should call someone. Johnny would want that. He could call Johnny. Johnny would want that, too. He stepped into the role of Mark's big brother so easily, so naturally. Lets Mark lean on him for more than he should. Lets Mark cry on his shoulder and hug him and hang around him even though he's probably sick of it. Johnny would get worried. He shouldn't call Johnny.

Mark shifts around, closes his eyes because the room started spinning. He lays down on the couch. Stretches his legs out and sighs and opens his eyes to stare at nothing some more.

He should call Baekhyun. He can do that. Baekhyun is technically his leader. Baekhyun wouldn't judge, would he? Baekhyun wouldn't. Baekhyun's comeback is next month. Baekhyun will be in the studio right now mixing songs with producers. Mark can't do that to him.

He could call Minseok. No, Minseok is in the military.

He could call--he could call a lot of people. Kun-ge. Winwin. A lot of people on the contact list of his phone. But that's not the point, isn't it? That's not the point, that's not who Mark is supposed to _talk_ to right now. He groans, gropes around for the soju, tips it into his mouth when he finds it, some of the liquid spilling out from the corners of his mouth. Mark wipes it with the back of his hand.

His head throbs. He closes his eyes. Imagines a soft smile stretched over full lips. Gentle hands on his skin.

Mark's problem was forgotten halfway into his second bottle of soju, and then it reappears at the end of his third.

-

The problem takes him to Gangnam. Takes him there via uber because Mark would rather be caught dead than ask for their manager to gift him a lift.

Mark knocks on the wooden door, probably too loudly. Probably too quickly. He doesn't have much control of his limbs right now. The door opens, and the face staring at him is beautiful. Angelic. Even under the shitty lighting of the entryway with absolutely no make-up on. Confused and soft and familiar.

Jongin's hair is wet. Probably from the shower. The last time Mark checked it was 1am in the morning. What _had_ Jongin been doing? Does it matter? It doesn't matter, because Jongin is frowning at him. And Mark feels guilt eat at the inside of his stomach, up his chest cavity. Like little maggots wriggling on his insides, hangs from the edges of his ribs and crawling up his throat.

But even through the guilt, even with the disapproving look, even through the haze of drunkenness, Mark still wants to kiss him.

Jongin lets him in without a word, and Mark stumbles on his own feet on his way in. Jongin grabs his arms to steady him. His hands are warm. It's gone as soon as it comes. And Mark feels both empty and dejected.

Jongin lets Mark follow him into the kitchen, where Mark climbs unceremoniously onto a stool, and Jongin puts the kettle on. He's still not talking. The alcohol settles uncomfortably on Mark's stomach.

"I'm sorry," Mark mumbles.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I disappoing--disappointed you."

Jongin doesn't answer. He still won't turn around either. Mark lowers his head, pillows them on top of his folded arms. He should've called Baekhyun. Baekhyun wouldn't have been mad at him.

"I'm not disappointed in you," Jongin says softly. So soft that Mark might have missed it if he wasn't looking for it.

"You look mad."

Jongin's back goes rigid again. "I'm not mad at you."

Mark doesn't understand that. But then Jongin's moving, pouring hot water into two mugs, scoops a dollop of honey and a slice of lemon into one. Green tea to the other. He turns around and his face isn't angry anymore, just tired. Tired as he sits in front of Mark. Tired as he pushes the tea over. Tired as he picks up his own mug, blowing on his own drink gingerly.

"I'm sorry," Mark croaks. Had he been out with his girlfriend? Mark is intruding. In his apartment and in his space and in his life. The three bottles of soju churn uneasily inside him.

"Drink your tea, Mark. I'm not mad at you."

Mark complies, if only to get on Jongin's good side.

But of course Jongin's green tea is magic. It's light on his tongue, not bitter, aromatic and soothing and settles warmly on his stomach, doesn't burn like the soju. Mark sighs, drinks half a glass before he even sets the mug back down.

Then fingers are in his hair. Patting, comforting, and gentle and reassuring. It's not something Jongin does freely. Not something he does period. Mark's chest feels tight, too tight with emotions he doesn't know how to describe.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother." Jongin throws an arm around Mark, and pulls him in, makes Mark rest his head on Jongin's shoulder. Mark feels loopy enough that he doesn't resist it. Melts against Jongin. He fits, like this. His head on the nook of Jongin's neck. Arms pressed together. He wonders if they'll fit in other ways, too.

"I'm sorry." Mark repeats nevertheless.

"Call me next time, if you need someone to talk to."

Mark nods.

"Sleep here tonight."

The yes is out of Mark's mouth before his brain can catch up to it.

-

The other thing about soju is, that it clears out of Mark's system much too quickly for his liking. Three trips to the bathroom later and Mark can feel himself sober up. It's almost unreal. Lying on top of Jongin's bed, sharing the same comforter with him. Openly staring.

Mark wants to reach out and touch, trace the shape of Jongin's lips with his fingers, wants to put a palm on his cheek to see if Jongin is really as warm as Mark thinks he is. Wants to feel the softness of his hair. Wants to scoot forward and feel Jongin's breath on his face.

"I can't sleep if you keep staring at me like that."

Mark flushes. "Sorry," he mumbles.

Jongin cracks a small smile, and both his eyes open. Mark averts his gaze.

"Why did you get drunk?"

"I don't know," Mark lies. "Got too lonely."

"You should've called me," Jongin repeats, his voice a hushed whisper. It sends a shiver down Mark's spine.

"Yes, hyung."

Jongin shifts closer, lays his hand next to Mark's on top of the pillow. So close but not touching.

"Goodnight, Mark."

Dressed in Jongin's clothes, smelling like Jongin, sleeping in the same bed as he is. It's too much, and too little all at once. Mark wants more, needs more. But lying in a bed of a taken man can't do him any good. He needs to stop. Mark needs to wake up and get up and leave.

But the proximity, the steady rise and fall of Jongin's chest, the smell of his laundry detergent and body wash in Mark's lungs keeps him down. Weighs him down like lead, yearning courses through him like one, echoes with the steady beat of his pulse. Mark's hand tingles where it rests near Jongin's. He curls into himself. He moves his hand imperceptibly closer.

Mark's chest is a gaping wound, raw and jagged on the edges. Bleeding.

He closes his eyes. Whispers one last time. "Goodnight, hyung."

-

Jongin's problem is that he's always been a bleeding heart.

It isn't a problem, until he's got a boy that he doesn't know what to do with lying across from him, mouth slack in his sleep, clutching one of Jongin's pillows like it'll protect him from bad dreams.

Dreams won't hurt him.

Jongin might, though.

He's woken by the buzzing of his phone. Early enough in the morning to know that it isn't his alarm. He ignores it the first time around. But when it rings a second time, Jongin has no choice but to answer it.

"Hello?" Jongin rubs sleep away from his eyes, rubs the image of Mark sleeping across from him.

"I am literally in front of your door," Baekhyun whines. "Open sesame! Come on!"

Jongin rolls around to the edge of the bed, careful not to tangle the comforter with him. Not to take away warmth from the boy who always seems so cold.

"Hyung," he groans, sitting up, legs swinging to the side of the bed. "It's way too early for anything."

"Don't I know it," Baekhyun deadpans. "I'm picking you up because we're going to have breakfast together, remember?"

Jongin sits up with a groan, slouching. He eyes Mark carefully.

"Okay, I'm coming."

-

Baekhyun's expression when he walks into Jongin's bedroom is almost comical. Wide eyes and disheveled hair. But it's belied by the frown on his forehead, the hard press of his lips.

"Is that--"

"Yes."

Baekhyun is silent, looks at Jongin with narrowed eyes. The weight of it makes guilt crawl underneath Jongin's skin.

Jongin averts his gaze.

Baekhyun tsks. He's so loud. Here and everywhere. He cocks his hands on his hips.

"What are you going to do about him?"

A pause. Jongin scratches the back of his head. Wonders about that, too.

"I don't know, hyung." He sighs. "I really don't know."

-

Mark is woken up first by the sound of laughter echoing from outside, then a gentle hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

Mark pries his eyes open, hopes to not stare at scorn first thing in the morning. Hopes to God not to be met with the downward curve of lips he wants to kiss. Hopes to God to not wake up to disappointment and anger.

But it's Baekhyun's rectangular smile that greets him. Bright eyes and gentle hands and stray tufts of fluffy hair that he never seems to be able to tame without the help of a flat iron.

"Hey," Baekhyun says softly. "You wanna go home?"

Jongin shifts on his feet on Mark's periphery, arms crossed and leaning against the doorway. Draws Mark's attention to him, makes him sweep his eyes over. Of course Jongin looks good in the morning. Hair just this tad of carelessly tousled.

"Yeah," Mark croaks, hates himself a little more when Jongin turns around without talking to him and leaves, "please."

-

"Jongin told me you were drunk when you showed up last night," Baekhyun comments. Throws it out into the air between them. His tone is light, conversational, even.

Inside Baekhyun's Audi, the atmosphere is different, somehow. Constant motion makes no space for judgment. Transience means words get lost in the hustle of air zinging past the wheels. In the blur of buildings. They'll be forgotten or kept inside or thrown out with lint and the remnants of Baekhyun's coffee-scented car freshener.

"Yeah, I got lonely," Mark admits, pauses. It's freeing. This. "Sad." And it feels less like a lie. Less than something to cover up his heartbreak and tastes more like a half-truth. He was, sad, in a way. Was lonely. Craved company.

Specific company. But Baekhyun doesn't need to know that.

Baekhyun hums. Laughs pleasantly. Everything Baekhyun does always seem so pleasant.

"It's not good to drink by yourself, you know."

"Yeah," Mark agrees. "Sorry."

Baekhyun shakes his head, lithe fingers dancing on the steering wheel, Baekhyun makes a turn, cranes his head to gauge the angle, and somehow that seems pleasant, too.

"Don't be sorry, I get it."

Mark doesn't answer. Baekhyun gets lonely. Baekhyun gets sad. He doesn't get _Mark's_ brand of sad and lonely _._

Baekhyun pulls up to the lobby of Mark's dorm. It's not a long drive from Jongin's place to their dorms. Scattered as they all are around SM.

"Hey, Mark," Baekhyun says, pulling the brakes. The security would scold them, Mark is sure, if Baekhyun's plates didn't say B 100 XO in big, bold letters.

"Yes, hyung?"

"You can talk to me if you want, you know?" Baekhyun's smile is pleasant. His hoodie is a Prive Alliance one that hangs past his hands, pushed and bunched up around his delicate forearms.

"Yes, hyung."

"About love woes, too."

Mark's breath catches in his throat. He feels like he's been sucker punched in the throat. Heart jackhammering in his chest.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Baekhyun's smile just softens. Mellows out and Mark doesn't know why he thought that Baekhyun doesn't _know._ Baekhyun knows everything.

"Yeah, you do."

He shifts his gaze, lets the silence hang in the air for it to turn heavy.

"Yes."

"Hey," Baekhyun goes soft. Goes too gentle. It's not pity, though. It's just Baekhyun. Baekhyun who knows about Mark's pathetic love woes. Who smiles at him with too much softness.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." He drums his fingers on the wheel, runs a hand through his hair. He looks pleasant. Smells pleasant. Talks pleasant. "But I'm here if you need me."

Mark's throat feels dry. From mortification or horror or something else entirely, he's not sure.

"Yes, hyung."

Baekhyun chuckles, and reaches over to run a hand through Mark's hair, pushing up his grimy bangs.

"You're young," Baekhyun says quietly, privately, like it's important, like it's a secret, like it's a _prophecy_. "Your heart will heal yet."

-

It's not yet a week when Baekhyun shows up in front of his door. Same pleasant smile on his face. Rectangular and easy.

"Hey," he says, "breakfast? I need help with my lyrics."

Mark glances behind him, where the rest of the dorm is still asleep, Mark having woken up just because Baekhyun called him. It's 09:56, too late for a breakfast and too early for lunch. Mark has a photoshoot at 11.

"Yeah," he says, already closing the door behind him. "Let's go."

-

Baekhyun takes him to a cozy western cafe on a building not far from the dorms.

"Whoa," Mark says, stepping into the place. The tables are made of marble and the polished wood on the wall glimmers with its gold lining. "I didn't know this place existed."

Baekhyun just grins at him, ushers Mark to a table near the window, where the sun streams in clear and bright. The light bounces off the petals of the lone hibiscus on the center of the table.

"Didn't peg you for the type to like cafes, hyung," Mark comments, pulling out a neat wooden chair and sitting down. Baekhyun sits down in front of him, flagging down a waiter with a wave of his hand.

"This is more of a family restaurant," Baekhyun answers. "And their brunch menu is to die for."

The menu, as it turns out, is made out of light wood, with a long piece of smooth paper attached to it, fancy writing all scribbled all over its surface.

Baekhyun looks at Mark over the edge of his, smile turning into a playful smirk. "Order whatever you want."

Mark snickers. "Right."

Mark skips the alcoholic beverages menu, and goes straight to dessert.

"Hyung, you wanna order like, three dishes and share?"

Baekhyun puts down the menu, folds his long fingers over it. He grins. "Sounds good to me."

-

"So what's up with you and Jongin?"

"Nothing."

Mark's hand stills on his phone. He pockets it aside.

Here lies the lie that he can't avoid anymore. Broken between the remnants of a financier, will be poked and prodded as Baekhyun pleases. Mark doesn't lie on his best days, it just hasn't been his best days in a while.

"Nothing," Mark repeats, louder.

Baekhyun raises a perfect, unimpressed eyebrow. "Minhyungie, don't lie to me."

Nobody calls him Minhyung. Save for his mother when Mark forgets to call for too long. Even then she says it to plead, to tug at heartstrings.

_Minhyung, you should call more._

He goes by Mark everywhere, one and the same and two and different. It sounds nice rolling off of Baekhyun's tongue, though. Like Baekhyun knows that person well, Minhyung, whoever that is.

It just doesn't sound like his name.

"Mark," Mark corrects, "nobody calls me Minhyung. Not even Johnny-hyung."

"Can't I call you that?"

Mark shakes his head. He doesn't like the way Baekhyun owns the name.

"Well, _Mark-ya_ ," Baekhyun drawls, and it sounds mocking, but his. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Baekhyun sighs.

"Let me try again." he continues splitting the financier, and the ice cream, scooping them up into more little plates. Baekhyun transfers two of the strawberries into the little dish, too, and pushes it over to Mark.

"With this humble offering, I implore you to tell me your love woes about Jongin." He asks, cheeks pull up into a cheeky smile. They look soft, dough-like in quality, like they'll bounce if Mark pokes them.

Mark looks down at the sad remnants of a dessert, the ice cream melting into a goo under the financier, soaking the cake right up. It looks like a mouth. And the strawberries look like eyes. Mark would have laughed.

"I don't want to talk about it," Mark says sharply instead.

Baekhyun winces bodily, narrows his eyes at Mark. His easy grin gone. But then he seems to relax quickly, tension melting out of him.

He shakes his head, sighs.

"Okay," he says. "I'm sorry for overstepping boundaries."

Mark's face flushes hot in shame, he pulls the plate towards himself, and pushes the pieces of fruits around, coating it with melting ice cream.

"Sorry for yelling at you, hyung."

"It's fine, Mark-ya," he says. And the rectangular smile is back. Understanding. Happy. "Finish your dessert now, it's almost time for your photoshoot."

-

Mark wishes, he could. Say it. Name the problem that showed up again the moment they step out of the fancy cafe Baekhyun took him to. Wants his confession to spill into the cold air of the car and let it be brought out the window by the constant flow of air. Wants his emotions to disappear.

Moving cars and impermanence, and all that.

But Mark doesn't say anything, keeps his eyes on the road even as Baekhyun pulls up at the building, in front of the lobby again. It's 11:07.

"Call me," Baekhyun says, passenger window rolled down. "Whenever you want, whatever the matter is."

Mark looks at anywhere but Baekhyun. "Sure," he answers.

"I mean it, Mark. Call me before I call you." Baekhyun grins, he waves his goodbyes and rolls the window back up.

Mark watches his car drive away, until he exits the premises of the building.

-

_Don't panic  
No, not yet  
I know I'm the one you want to forget  
Cue all the love to leave my heart  
It's time for me to fall apart_

-

The phone dangles from his hand, and he brings it to his face for further inspection. Mark squints at it, eyesight poor even with the lights on. He tries to swipe his phone open, but his thumbs don't feel his. He lets out a frustrated grunt. Flops to his back until he gets it right, and scrolls through his contact until he hits Baekhyun's.

The line goes through, Mark waits for it to ring.

"Hyung," Mark whispers hoarsely into the receiver.

"Mark? Where are you?" Baekhyun's voice sounds nice to his frazzled ears. Musical and soothing. Pleasant.

"Dorm." Mark hiccups. "Come get me, please."

"Come get you?" Baekhyun asks. Pauses, and then adds. "Wait, are you drunk?"

Mark doesn't feel drunk. Feels loose and sway-y. Is that a word? Sway-y. He's had a little bit too much soju, maybe. One of those lemon ones that Ten-hyung likes so much. Too much that he can't get up without listing to the side. That his memory starts to fuzz, faces and places mixing together.

"Yes." Mark answers, screws his eyes shut, lets it thunk onto the bed under him.

"Where are your members?"

"I don't know," Mark whispers. "Outside. Not here. I got a room for myself, don't you know?"

"You did?"

Mark nods, remembers Baekhyun can't see him. "Yeah. It's too big."

There's a pause, then Baekhyun is shifting, Mark can hear the crinkle of his clothes, the chatter of people behind him. It's nearing midnight. He wonders where Baekhyun is.

"Look, I'm gonna call Taeyong and--"

"No." Mark cuts him off, sits up too suddenly for his body to cope. He pushes down a wave of nausea. His stomach burns. Mark's vision swims as dread climbs up his guts. "D-don't call him. I'm fine, hyung. I-I'm fine."

"Mark," he says, voice gentling, "it's okay, he's not gonna--"

"No." Mark says, hopes his words don't slur too much. "I'm fine. Sorry for bothering you. Good night."

-

When Mark wakes up, his room is dark. There are no traces of soju bottles littered on his floor. He sits up, groans at the stabbing pain on his head. Mark gropes for his phone, finds it on the bedside table beside him.

From: Byun Baekhyun

May 11th. 01:21

_mark??? pick up_

01:45

_mark pick up!_

02:07

_mark im coming over_

03:17

_text me when you wake up_

The last text is from half an hour ago. Mark's heart beats in his ears. His face burns hot. Shame coils deep in his gut.

_Hyung, I'm up. Thank you. Sorry for bothering you._

Mark eases himself back into the bed, he has to be up in an hour. He pulls the blanket up to his nose and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and faintly registers the lingering smell of coffee.

-

"Hyung was here, last night." Taeyong's eyes aren't calculating, but they're always piercing and they look for his through the mirror. Mark avoids them.

"Yeah?"

"Jungwoo said he went to your room."

Mark licks his lips, bends down to stretch his back. He folds himself until he's hugging his knees. Straightens up and exhales.

"I got his bucket hat with me," Mark lies breezily.

Taeyong doesn't answer, and now the silence is calculating. Measuring.

"Okay."

Taeyong's eyes are still piercing, but at least they don't follow him for the rest of practice.

-

Baekhyun waits for him after practice. The very same day. Sitting on one of those long benches by the door, phone in his hand, scrolling distractedly. Mark's hyungs (and Donghyuck) greet him good-naturedly when they exit, single file, probably thinking he has SuperM business with Taeyong and Mark, the last two to go.

"Hyung," Taeyong nods at him just as Baekhyun is standing up. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Baekhyun grins, slides his phone inside his pocket. "I just needed to talk to Mark, you can go on."

Taeyong raises an eyebrow, looking back and forth between Baekhyun and Mark suspiciously. But he knows dismissal when he sees one, and he nods, adjusts the strap of his bag.

"I'll wait for you outside," Taeyong says to Mark.

"Yeah."

They watch Taeyong leave, closing the door behind him, and then there's silence, Baekhyun staring at Mark. His gaze assessing, weighing. Mark's palms start to sweat, he drops his bag to the floor instead, near Baekhyun's feet.

Baekhyun opens his arms suddenly, and moves forward to wrap them around Mark, chin hooking over Mark's shoulder.

Mark tenses, but Baekhyun huffs, wiggles around a little, and Mark relaxes into the embrace. Hesitantly placing his arms on the small of Baekhyun's back, face sinking into the material of Baekhyun's hoodie.

Baekhyun is broad where Mark is not, and the fluffy hoodie tickles his nose a little. It's soft on his skin. Baekhyun smells of his expensive cologne, the one he said Jongin had gotten him. He's warm. Mark sighs.

"Is this what you came here to do?" Mark mumbles.

"No?" It's phrased like a question, Mark frowns. "I was going to say something but you looked like you needed a hug."

"I looked like I needed a hug," Mark chokes out, throat suddenly tight. Baekhyun mirrors the feeling in the tightening of his arms around Mark.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Mark answers. "I'm all disgusting and sticky, I'll ruin your nice hoodie."

"It's fine," Baekhyun whispers, he turns his face, and his breath tickles Mark's neck a little. Mark suppresses a shudder. "I have ten of these back home."

They stay long enough for Baekhyun to sway them on their feet. It reminds Mark of the friendship test they took back at Glamour. His one minute hug with Jongin.

Mark's fists clench on Baekhyun's hoodie.

They end up sitting side by side on the bench, Mark looking at his fingernails. Noting the jagged edges of it, where he'd been chewing them.

"When I said call me," Baekhyun begins his sentence, slow, like he's testing the words on his tongue, arms crossed in front of his chest, "I meant _before_ you get drunk."

Mark winces. Shame bitter on his tongue. "Sorry," he says curtly. "Won't happen again."

Baekhyun waves a dismissive hand. "Don't be sorry, I'd rather you call me than--"

"Why are you doing this?" Mark cuts him off, whips his head around to look at Baekhyun. Caught midsentence with his mouth hanging open and his hand in the air.

Baekhyun retracts his hand awkwardly and scratches his neck. Deliberating his answer.

"I appreciate it," Mark continues, "and I'm grateful. But you don't have to go out of your way like this this. Just tell me off, hyung. I'll leave you alone."

Baekhyun's gaze softens on him, and Mark hates it today. Hates the pity saturated in it. Baekhyun reaches out a tentative hand. Places it on the back of Mark's neck. Familiar. Warm. He squeezes.

"Of course I have to. You're one of my own now."

Mark shakes his head. "Thank you, but you really don't have to."

"Then indulge me," Baekhyun sighs, takes his hand back, and Mark is suddenly very cold. "I want to look out for you."

Mark looks down at his sneakers, they're worn around the edges. He'd gotten them two years ago with his own money. It's the first pair of sneakers he'd gotten on his own.

Mark feels undeserving, and wrong.

"Okay," he says, voice small. He feels drained. Like he's just given up on something. "Thank you, hyung."

Baekhyun just shakes his head. He stands up and helps Mark do the same, adjusts Mark's glasses and fixes his hair. A small smile on his lips the whole time.

"Text me when you get back home," Baekhyun orders. "And don't touch any alcohol."

Mark nods, and leaves.

-

_Hyung, I'm home._

From: Byun Baekhyun

May 12th. 00:03

_alright!! sleep tight_

-

It doesn't occur to Mark, that storms can be weathered. It doesn't occur to him that chaos could be restrained and tamed. That heartbreak on a leash doesn't mean he has to get dragged around by it. And here is Baekhyun, trying to help him control it. To slow it into a pace that doesn't make his skin skid against pavement. Mark thinks he should try harder, pull harder. But his arms feel like lead, and he's so tired of fighting.

Mark takes a deep breath, opens his eyes, and dials Baekhyun's number on his phone.

_"Hello?"_

"Hey, hyung, what are you doing?"

Mark gathers the storm in his shaking hands, and starts pushing it out the door.

-

 _Now you're gone_ _  
But I'll be okay  
Your hot whisky eyes  
Have fanned the flames  
Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight  
Let the fire breathe me back to life_

-

_what are you doing??_ the text reads.

Mark should be resting, it's one of the rare days that he doesn't have any schedules past midnight. Taeyong would scold him for not sleeping (who can sleep in a room so quiet? Mark asks himself). But he swallows, types the _nothing_ and sends it before he can stop himself.

_come by to the studio_

_i want you to listen to something_

Mark gets up, doesn't know what propels him forward, but he does. Puts one foot in front of the other. Dons a hoodie and his glasses and a ballcap that Renjun got for him for his graduation, and ubers his way to SM.

Baekhyun is sitting behind the mixer when Mark walks inside the studio he'd texted Mark in. He looks up as Mark enters. There are bags under his eyes, and his skin is shiny with oil. His hair is pushed back with a bandana, and he has his own glasses perched on his nose, one of those half-round half-square frames that always makes Mark look too girly.

Baekhyun just looks pleasant. Instead of looking like death personified like Mark does on his second day of recording, he's glowing effortlessly. Baekhyun smiles his rectangular smile, and Mark returns it with a short nod.

"Hey," Baekhyun says, "thank you for coming."

"Of course hyung," Mark replies. "Where's Soojin-hyung?"

"Dinner break," Baekhyun says, licking his lips. It's fifteen minutes past nine pm.

"Have you eaten yet?" Mark asks, taking the empty seat next to Baekhyun's.

Baekhyun shakes his head, and offers him a pair of headphones instead. "Listen to this first, I want to know what you think."

Mark does, focuses on the sounds, how Baekhyun's voice bleeds in with the music. The piano and the snares and the drums. He doesn't realize his feet is tapping a rhythm to the carpeted floor until the song is over.

Mark takes off the headphones, returns it to Baekhyun.

"What do you think?"

"It's good," Mark answers. "I like it."

"Do you think the bridge is too weak?"

"No," Mark frowns. "A bit too strong, less layers, maybe?"

Baekhyun nods, eyes shifting. "Do you think it needs a rap?"

Mark's eyes widen at Baekhyun's question. "Rap?"

"After the second chorus."

"I don't.." Mark trails off, picking at his nails. "I don't really know, hyung."

Baekhyun clears his throat. "There was s _upposed_ to be a rap after the second chorus."

"I see."

"Would you do it?"

Mark nods before his brain can catch up to it, and Baekhyun beams at him. Smile lighting up his whole face.

"Great, I'll have my manager call yours."

"I can't do this right now though, hyung," Mark says, "gotta write the lyrics, and everything." He finishes lamely.

Baekhyun blinks at him. "Of course," he says. "Do you want me to drive you home right now or...?"

Mark thinks of his cold bed, and shakes his head.

"I have my notebook with me, I'll work on the lyrics here, if you don't mind."

Baekhyun's smile grows. "I don't mind. I'll send everything to your e-mail."

Mark nods hesitantly, gets up, and moves to the couch on the corner of the room, reaching through his bag for his own headphones. Taeyong had gotten him a new pair after the first SuperM tour ended.

"Oh hyung," Mark pauses, looking up at Baekhyun, who's typing furiously at his phone.

"Yeah?" he replies, not bothering to take his attention off the phone.

"You should eat something."

Baekhyun frowns at him, but orders two bowls of jajangmyeon to be delivered to the studio. They probably shouldn't eat there, but it's nice, watching Baekhyun try to stuff his mouth with noodles and black bean sauce and talk at the same time.

It's pleasant.

Mark stays until the producers come back. With his hands idle on top of lined paper and head empty of lyrics, he watches Baekhyun sing instead. Mark leans back onto the couch, caught up in the rise and fall of Baekhyun's voice, eventually dozing off to the sound of Baekhyun adding adlibs to his title track.

When he wakes up, it's to Baekhyun's gentle hands shaking him.

It's two am when Mark straps himself to the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. His eyes are barely open. He doesn't know how Baekhyun still has the energy to look upbeat, humming to the tune of his new song all the way to 127's dorms.

"You're so energetic," Mark says around a yawn.

"I'm excited," Baekhyun laughs. Mark can practically see him vibrating in his seat. "Also I drank way too much coffee."

"When did you get coffee?"

"When you were sleeping," Baekhyun answers. "Around eleven?"

Mark snorts. "You're unbelievable, hyung."

"You mean amazing," Baekhyun counters. "Or unbelievably handsome?" He grins, winking into the rearview mirror at Mark.

Mark tries, and fails miserably at stopping himself from giggling.

-

Baekhyun's comeback rolls around, and they all take turns visiting him like the good dongsaengs SM tries to make them out to be.

Mark gets another songwriting credit to his name, and a featuring on Baekhyun's album. Baekhyun wears a leather jacket on the cover, he thanks his family's dog on the album notes. Mark visits him at a music show alone, and when he walks into Baekhyun's waiting room, shivering from the wind, mask covering half of his face, Jongin is there.

Mark's chest tightens, he freezes. And even when he knows he has virtually no hope, Jongin remains the showstopper in the production of his life, sitting on Baekhyun's seat in front of the mirror. Staring at his phone absently. Angelic in his stillness.

But then Baekhyun is blocking his view, pulling Mark into a sticky hug and swivelling him around.

"Hey," he breathes into Mark's ear. "You came."

Mark pushes him away, heart beating a tight, tight, _tight_ rhythm inside his chest. His hands linger on Baekhyun's arms, clutching at the elbows of his costume. It's something made of silk, and he's going to leave wrinkles on the fabric. Baekhyun doesn't seem to mind, though. Smiling at Mark through his eyeful of glitter.

"Of course I did," Mark swallows. "Congratulations on the album, hyung. You were amazing."

"Yeah, thank you." Baekhyun is pulling him by the wrist, guiding him through the mess of people, and Mark is too distracted to refute him. Baekhyun drags him someplace else, outside, another room, Mark doesn't really notice. Heart in his ears and on his sleeve.

He hasn't talked to Jongin in a month. Not since he'd barged into his apartment, drunk off his rocks and _so_ in love.

"You okay?" Baekhyun asks, voice low and loud in the empty room. He's looking at Mark with the same easy eyes, lined and dusted with dark shadow on the edges, except now they're concerned, brows furrowed together in a frown.

Mark stares right back. "I'm fine," he chokes out. "I'm fine."

-

They take their pictures separately, Mark posts his on the NCT account. Baekhyun posts his and Jongin's on his own twitter account.

-

Summer nips at their heels, and with its stifling heat comes SuperM's second mini album. Mark sees Jongin almost every day, and tries his hardest not to drown.

-

"Breathe," Baekhyun murmurs, traces a finger on the lines of Mark's palm. His hand open on top of Baekhyun's lap. "You have to breathe."

Somewhere behind him, Jongin's musical laughter rings. Mark's chest constricts out of his own volition. Mark inhales. Exhales.

He doesn't take his eyes off of Baekhyun's finger.

 _I'm breathing,_ Mark wants to say. Can't. _I'm breathing._

Baekhyun closes his own fingers around Mark's hand. Slender around his small ones. Mark puts a palm on top of it. Inhales. Exhales.

-

Tequila is _better_ in the US. Goes down better and easier. The slide of it, combined with salt and lime burns down Mark's throat, warms him up from the inside out. Clubs aren't his style. Mark mostly prefers quiet bars or somewhere that serves real food, but Ten had wanted to go out, and well, it _was_ his birthday a week ago.

"You look like shit," Ten shouts over the roar of the bass. "You wanna talk about it?"

Mark shakes his head, gives Ten a small smile. Ten shrugs at him, and disappears behind the throng of bodies. Mark slinks out of the crowd and stays at the bar, flagging down the bartender for another drink.

He holds the shot glass in the air when he gets it, watches the low lights of the club bounce off of it. It reminds him of the chains on Jongin's stage costume, and the way his eyes shine when he's talking about dancing.

"To stardom," Mark whispers, "and being in love." Mark presses the edge of the glass against his lips, Baekhyun's disapproving frown comes into his mind. He closes his eyes. "And the insanity that accompanies it."

He knocks the shot back, and relishes the way it scorches him whole.

-

Mark somehow ends up banging his fist against Baekhyun's room. Too quickly and too loudly, never in control of his own limbs.

Baekhyun doesn't even look tired when he opens it, blinking at Mark and frowning.

Something sours inside him. Of course, Baekhyun would be disappointed in him. Of course.

Mark sways on his feet, shows his teeth to Baekhyun.

"Hey, hyung," he slurs. "Tried to breathe but I--" he hiccups, "got drunk instead." Mark giggles.

Baekhyun stares at him, mouth pressed into a thin line.

Mark doesn't want that, wants Baekhyun's square smiles back.

He swipes Mark aside, pokes his head out, looks left and right, before pulling Mark by the sleeve inside. Mark crashes into Baekhyun, burying his face in Baekhyun's hair, leaning all his weight against him. Baekhyun is so solid. So strong. All the goddamn time.

And here is Mark, all brittle skin and hollow bones, breaking on impact.

"Sorry hyung," he laughs. "I'm a--a fucking _nightmare_ ," he whispers.

Baekhyun closes the door behind him, before winding his arm around Mark's waist, steering Mark and his clumsy feet easily onto the bed. He pushes Mark's shoulder down, and Mark sits on the bed without question, slumping forward when Baekhyun bends down.

Baekhyun sighs, and starts taking off Mark's shoes, then his socks.

"You're not a nightmare," Baekhyun says in a small voice, gentle hands coaxing Mark out of his bomber. "You're just heartbroken."

The room spins. Mark closes his eyes. "Some fucking heartbreak." He whispers.

-

Mark wakes in the middle of the night to find himself pressed against Baekhyun, Baekhyun's arm slung possessively across his hip. His face on Baekhyun's sternum. Baekhyun radiates heat like a space-heater, and it should be uncomfortable, but it's not. Mark stares up at a spot on the wall, alcohol-addled brain not computing anything except the heat of Baekhyun's body and the softness of the pillow under his head. He doesn't think about Jongin staying three doors down. He breathes in Baekhyun's clean scent instead. Something like pine-tree and detergent. Listens to the steady sound of Baekhyun's heartbeat against his ear, storm quieting in his ears, and falls back asleep.

-

The next night, Baekhyun's hand lingers around his wrist after the concert is over.

"Mark, you brought your guitar with you, right?" Baekhyun licks his lips, glances around, like he's afraid someone might catch him.

"Yeah, hyung."

"Are you tired?"

Mark shakes his head.

"Good." Baekhyun's smile lights up his whole face. Turns his eyes into crescents. It's rectangular and easy. Pleasant. "Teach me how to play when we get back to the hotel?"

Mark wants to say no. He's bone tired. He wants nothing than to down the complimentary liquor in their hotel room. Maybe crash in Ten's and drink his, too.

Mark nods anyways.

"Of course."

"Alright," Baekhyun says, lets go of Mark's wrist. "My room."

-

Baekhyun opens the door for him for him with another smile (he seems never to run out from it for Mark), hair wet from the shower, an oversized shirt and shorts on him. The other members are out right now. Mark hasn't said a word to them. Even Taeyong.

"Whoa," he exclaims, peering over Mark's shoulder at the guitar. Mark adjusts the strap of his guitar bag, and Baekhyun steps aside to let him in.

Baekhyun's room isn't as messy as Mark thought it'd be, his gaming laptop is out and shut on the table, next to his collection of bracelets and necklaces. His bucket hat is there, too. His suitcase is open on the suitcase stand, insides looking slightly gutted and rumpled. Baekhyun's bed is unmade. And it humanizes the room, a little. Looks like somewhere someone like Baekhyun could stay in for hours if he wants to.

Baekhyun climbs on top of the bed, sits by the head and pats the spot in front of him.

"Seonsangnim," Baekhyun intones seriously. "I will be in your hands tonight."

Mark can't help but smile. He sits sideways on the bed and unzips the guitar case, preens a little at the way Baekhyun gasp when he pulls it out. Like he doesn't see guitars every day in his life.

"I'm counting on you, disciple," Mark replies, a folded leg on the bed, the other hanging from the edge, where he rests the guitar on his thigh, strumming.

Baekhyun hums instinctively, moving closer to Mark.

"Play something I know."

Mark plays the introduction of Wait, and Baekhyun opens his mouth to sing. His voice remains beautiful, and Mark doesn't stop playing even as they've passed the second verse. Baekhyun closes his eyes, face scrunching up in concentration as he tries to sing all of the parts. Mark stares at him, tracks the changes of his expression.

" _All I do is wait,_ " Baekhyun finishes softly with the last strum of Mark's guitar, eyes creeping open as if in a daze.

Mark's mouth hangs open in admiration. "Amazing."

Baekhyun chuckles. Mark moves so he can face Baekhyun properly, both legs folded beneath him this time.

"Do you know this one, hyung?"

He plays the intro of DAY6's Congratulations, and Baekhyun hums along to it, breaking out into song one more time.

And boy can Baekhyun _sing._ He sings until Mark's fingers are hurting from the strings, until he's slightly hoarse, belting out song after song after song from Mark's meager knowledge of chords, phone in hand as he looks up lyrics. He sings until he's yawning around the words, tone declining into a quiet hum.

"Let's stop, I'm sleepy." Baekhyun says, putting his hand on top of Mark's on the guitar, blinking blearily.

Mark looks up from his fingers, and towards the digital clock by the bed. Where the numbers are blinking 12:08 at him.

Mark groans as he straightens up, back cracking with the movement. He stretches his legs in front of him, puts his guitar down on its case.

He startles at the warm hand on his ankle, traces it up to Baekhyun's sleepy face.

"Stay here tonight."

Mark doesn't find any reason to say no.

Later, staring at the back of Baekhyun's head, the only visible part of him left that isn't covered by the thick blanket, Mark dozes off, feeling oddly safe and warm. Protected.

-

Baekhyun follows him, too, on the next night, fingers lingering around Mark's wrist.

He licks his lips again. "Can you teach me again tonight?"

Mark blinks. "Yeah, of course hyung."

-

"Stay?"

"Yeah."

-

"Again, tonight?"

"Yeah."

-

"Stay over."

"Alright."

-

"Mark, tonight--"

"Yeah."

-

They make a habit out of it. Mark and his guitar. On Baekhyun's bed. Baekhyun's beautiful, beautiful voice.

And it's nice, it gets Mark's mind off of things. Keeps him away from collision courses. It's pleasant. Like Baekhyun's smiles, and his never-ending collection of hoodies.

-

Mark realizes the fifth night in a row Baekhyun accidentally screws up a chord, eyes glinting mischievously, the digits on the clock on the bedside table blinking 01:00 in stocky, red letters, that his judgment on what's pleasant is shot to hell, and that he doesn't mind much.

Mark rolls his eyes jokingly, places his hand over Baekhyun's, pries his fingers open one by one and places them on the right strings. Baekhyun's fingers are squishy. Soft. Like him.

"Like this," Mark explains gently, "E chord."

"Oh," Baekhyun repeats, fingers forming the most perfect E chord on the bar. He strums the strings smoothly. "Like this?"

"Yeah," Mark says, an amused smile dancing on his lips, "E chord."

"Thank you, seonsangnim." Baekhyun changes the chord, starts playing the intro of a song that Mark doesn't recognize.

"Yeah." Mark says that a lot around Baekhyun, he realizes. Says all variants of yesses and never a no. "Of course, hyung."

-

Baekhyun takes him to restaurants, to music shops, to clothing stores. Asks Mark to translate for him and read to him. Baekhyun games with him or asks him to watch while he plays and doesn't let Mark anywhere near alcohol.

-

"Here," Baekhyun says, hands slithering around Mark's bare wrist. His hand outstretched in front of him. They're in Baekhyun's room, getting ready for an interview. Baekhyun has his hair slicked back, wearing a fuzzy pink sweater that should clash miserably with his hard boots, but doesn't, when Baekhyun is the one wearing it.

He presses the clasps close and Mark brings his wrist closer to his face, where an intricate silver bracelet now lay. Chains intertwining, with a laureate in the middle. It glints in the morning sun, and Mark can't help the satisfaction that runs through him. Excitement thrumming underneath his skin. Pleasant.

"What's this for?"

"For trying," Baekhyun says. "For fighting it, for staying, for being brave," he adds. "And for thirty-four days of not showing up at someone's doorstep drunk," he smiles ruefully, ruffling Mark's hair.

Mark stares at the bracelet, loss for words for the first time in a long time. His chest swells up with things that he can definitely recognize. Elation. Happiness. A little sadness.

Baekhyun tugs on his sleeve before Mark could drown in his own emotions, and Mark follows.

Mark spends a long time cradling his wrist against his chest, and catches Baekhyun stealing glances at his actions throughout the day.

Mark smiles every time.

-

How do you do this?

How do you end a love that seemed to be intent on swallowing you whole? Mark stared at love in its ugly maw and walked right inside. Didn't budge even when its jaws snapped shut and trapped him in. Mark was always a sucker for pain. Mostly growing ones, the ones that they say will make you strong. Turn you into an all-encompassing being, solid and sturdy and _tough._ Something like love.

But Mark realizes, one Monday morning and a cup of Java Chip later, listening to Baekhyun grumble about how Frappuccino is fake coffee, that maybe, just maybe, it doesn't always have to hurt, after all.

Mark swallows, throat suddenly thick with gratitude and misplaced guilt. He returns Baekhyun's rambling with a pinch on his arm and a smile, and starts to breathe.

-

"Hey, hyung," Mark says, breaking off a part of the chocolate chip cookie on the table between them. They'd bought one to share, because Baekhyun is on a stupid diet, but Mark wanted the cookie. Starbucks menus may be different in the US than it is in Korea, but the cookies stay the same.

"Yeah?" Baekhyun answers absently, he's playing a game in his phone. One that Chanyeol-hyung had him hooked on.

"You want to watch a movie tonight instead?"

"What," he glances at Mark, "giving up on teaching me already?"

"You're a horrible student." Mark grins. "Get Chanyeol-hyung to play for you."

"Maybe it's because the teacher is shitty," Baekhyun retorts. "Shit." He whines. Someone in his team must've died.

He throws the phone down with a huff and goes to pick at the cookie.

Mark smacks his hand away and pulls the plate closer to him, grinning. "I thought you were dieting."

Baekhyun pouts at him. It shouldn't be cute, but it is. Pleasantly cute.

Mark breaks off a piece of the cookies, offers it in front of Baekhyun's mouth. Baekhyun, shameless even on his best days, eats the cookie from Mark's outstretched hand. Mark shivers at the feel of Baekhyun's lips on top of his fingers. He drops his gaze, retracts his hand.

"Hey, hyung," he says, breaking the cookie apart into bite sized pieces for no reason at all, watches it crumble messily under his thumb.

Baekhyun hums.

"Thanks," Mark says softly.

Baekhyun waits a beat before answering.

"Yeah. Of course."

And there are hands in his hair once again, comfortable and familiar.

-

The plane ride back on Korea comes on a Thursday afternoon, the glaring September sun kissing their skin. Baekhyun has a bucket hat on, stupidly big shirt hanging off his shoulders, and Mark is wearing his ballcap. The one with the little lion on the front, the one Johnny got for him because he thinks it's hilarious. Mark bounces on the balls of his heels, waits for Taeyong to get out of the car. Baekhyun is on the car up front, riding with Taemin and Yukhei.

Mark sidles up beside Baekhyun once they start walking, the gates of LAX sprawls in front of them, inviting. Promising of home and the cooler air of Seoul. The comfort of practice rooms and studios and Baekhyun's Audi.

With the flash of cameras surrounding them, Baekhyun links his pinky finger with Mark's. His bracelet heavy on Mark's wrist.

They sit next to each other on the plane. Mark doesn't look at Jongin the whole ride back.

-

 _Now you're gone_ _  
But_

_I'll_

_be_

_o-kay_

-

The soju burns as it goes down.

Mark grimaces as he sets the bottle down. It knocks against the glass of Baekhyun's coffee table noisily. Leans forward to push it, putting it on a ring of circle made of water, the one condensation built.

"This tastes horrible," Mark complains, face scrunching up in distaste. He pops a piece of chicken in his mouth to erase it.

"I thought you liked drinking?" Baekhyun asks, tipping his own bottle up. He cozies up, wriggling around in his seat and leaning against the couch behind them.

Baekhyun likes the strawberry one, for some godawful reason. Mark thinks he can still be excused for drinking flavored soju. But Baekhyun is 28 to his 21, and richer. With the invitation to come over, Mark thought he'd be sipping wine or whiskey. Not downing bottles of Chumchurum on the floor of Baekhyun's spacious living room like teenagers.

Baekhyun wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Coughs once, twice. His lips are red and shiny from the spiciness of the chicken. Mark shakes his head, picks up another piece of boneless wing with his chopsticks.

"I don't like soju."

Baekhyun laughs. "Sorry," he says. But he doesn't sound too apologetic. His eyes are bright, mouth pulling up into a smile, rectangular and easy. He shakes the bottle in his hand. "Soju is about the only alcohol I can tolerate."

"Are you saying I can outdrink you?"

"Almost everyone can," he says, picking up a chicken and chewing on it. "It's not an impressive feat."

Mark laughs shortly. "I don't want to get drunk though."

"Why not?" Baekhyun's movements pauses, like he's surprised. "I thought you were okay with drinking again?"

"I am, but I just.." Mark trails off, shrugging. "I don't have any reason to, anymore." Baekhyun would stop him from getting drunk, anyways.

"Oh," he says, smiling. "That's good."

Baekhyun fiddles with his chopsticks, places it down straight on the table so he can open up a tupperware of reheated fried squid. "I don't want to get drunk either, but I'm really shit at drinking so we'll see."

"I guess we will."

Between the two of them, two bottles go by quickly, out of balance with the amount of fried food that just keeps appearing everytime Baekhyun comes back from the kitchen.

"From my mom," he explains, looking at Mark helplessly.

Alcohol makes Baekhyun affectionate. It sharpens his edges, makes him brighter, makes him stupidly vivid. He makes noises when he's drunk, half-conscious and flopping onto Mark's lap like it's his birthright. He yips and whimpers, squirms around until he's satisfied, half of his body on top of Mark's lap. Mark has to shift backwards to accommodate this grown man who seems to think he's a puppy, back pressed against the bottom of the couch, stretching his legs underneath the low table.

Mark sets his chopsticks aside on the rug, too near Baekhyun's oversized white hoodie. It's going to stain. Baekhyun will whine at him.

Mark reaches up a hand, pushes stray strands of hair out of Baekhyun's eyes.

Baekhyun stares up at him, unfocused eyes zeroing in on his face, before breaking out into a grin. There's a flush on his cheeks, it complements the complexion of his skin. He looks charmingly rosy, like he'd just dusted blush on his cheekbones rather than downing one bottle of soju. Baekhyun's mouth parts slightly, red and shiny, and a peek of tongue comes out to wet his lips.

Mark can't stop staring.

"I'm drunk," Baekhyun whispers conspirationally, then hiccups, face scrunching up in confusion. Then he giggles, like hiccupping is the funniest thing he's ever done in his life.

"Yeah, I noticed," Mark grins. He's only slightly buzzed. Aware of the alcohol in his system, making everything pleasantly fuzzy, softer around the edges.

"Oh, the room is spinning," Baekhyun comments, closing his eyes.

Mark laughs, flicks Baekhyun's forehead. Baekhyun whines in return, shoves Mark's stomach, hands going up to rub the spot where Mark hits.

"I'm older than you," he complains. "I deserve some respect."

"I do respect you hyung," Mark replies. "Just not right now."

"I miss the days when you would listen to me."

"You were never there to tell me what to do."

Baekhyun sits up suddenly, almost knocking Mark's chin with his face. "I was! I met you when you were like, this fucking tiny," he giggles, bringing his index finger and thumb close together to demonstrate just how _tiny_ Mark was when Baekhyun first met him. "On that show! Remember?" He crawls closer to Mark, leaning heavily against his shoulder, jostling Mark in the process.

Baekhyun shifts, pillowing his head on the crook of Mark's neck, hair tickling Mark's cheek. Mark swallows, throat suddenly dry. Baekhyun smells slightly of alcohol, of artificial strawberry flavoring and of coffee-scented car freshener.

"I remember."

Baekhyun makes a noise from the back of his throat, hand waving around. It's cute. "You were so small."

"I wasn't _that_ small."

"Were too."

"Was not."

"Small." Baekhyun snorts.

" _You're_ small, hyung. I got taller."

Baekhyun laughs, full-blown and giddy, bending over slightly to catch his breath, collapsing on top of Mark's lap again. "You're so--" he wheezes, "you're so fuckin' _rude._ "

Mark doesn't understand why it's funny, but he can't keep the grin off his face at Baekhyun's laughter.

"See," Baekhyun mumbles. His eyes are closed, head pillowed sideways on Mark's thighs, curled up comfortably. He might fall asleep there if Mark lets him. "Drinking is more fun with friends."

"Yeah," Mark murmurs, thinking of tasting strawberry straight off of Baekhyun's tongue, "I guess you're right."

-

_I will sing to you every day_ _  
If it will take away the pain_

-

Late October brings with it cooler weather that bites him on the nose, and Mark is in three different cities in the span of one week. But still, around him, leaves shake off from their branches and turn orange, wilting or crisping out as they go down. It reminds him of Baekhyun's orange hair July last year, when they were wrapping up shooting for the teasers.

Mark fiddles with his bracelet, and spends all day looking at his phone, grinning.

"Who are you texting?" Johnny asks, slinging an arm around Mark's shoulder. He steers the both of them to a dainty little vintage shopfront on the streets of Santa Monica, and makes interested noises at the objects there.

Mark straightens up, blinks up at Johnny and pockets his phone, where it buzzes three times before dying down, his own arm winding around Johnny's waist.

"No one."

"You keep smiling at your phone."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Of course not, dude," Johnny jostles him. "I'm just curious."

"It's no one."

"I don't know, Mark," Johnny says slyly, ducks his head down to meet Mark's eyes, "for a no one, you look a little bit smitten with them."

Mark's face burns hot, and he's trying his best not to smile. He pushes Johnny over the threshold of the shop, laughs when he stumbles. The foreign shopkeeper is shooting them confused glances. Mark bites off a grin.

"Shut up, hyung."

Johnny punches his arm when he manages to regain his balance but Mark just laughs.

Mark feels so giddy he can taste it on his tongue. Like starbursts. Sweet and tacky. Sticks to the roof of his mouth. He smacks his lips on instincts, expecting the taste of strawberry in his mouth. Imagines sweet lollipop sticks. A delight.

-

It's cold this time around in New York. Especially at night, but Mark braves it. Leans against the railing of the balcony of their AirBnB, phone cradled against one cheek. Baekhyun's bracelet is heavy around his wrist, metallic-cool. Grounding. It clanks noisily when Mark accidentally bumps it against the iron grates of the balcony. A wind blows in the smell of the rain. Mark shivers, pulls his padded jacket tighter around himself.

Baekhyun picks up on the first ring, and the first thing Mark registers is the howling against the speaker.

"Are you outside?"

"Yeah," Baekhyun answers. "Rooftop."

"Hyung," Mark chides, "go back inside. You'll freeze to death."

"'m not cold," Baekhyun mumbles, voice tinny through Mark's crappy internet line. "It's just a little bit windy."

Mark closes his eyes, drinks in the sound of Baekhyun's voice. He sways forward, the murkiness of the backyard pulling him in. "You talk like I haven't been in SM's rooftop in November," Mark murmurs, "if you get sick, it's on you."

"I won't get sick." Baekhyun sighs. "Honestly, your nagging is on par with Jongdae's these days. Doyoung is rubbing off on you."

"I resent that," Mark replies. "I nag because I care. Doyoung-hyung nags for the sake of nagging."

"You nag because you don't have anything else to do." Mark can hear the grin in Baekhyun's voice. "And because you like to annoy me."

"Of course. God forbid I actually care about you, don't I?"

"I know you care about me," Baekhyun says, Mark can imagine the playful roll of his eyes, the smirk pulling up his lips. He feels warm. So warm. "Who sends five texts telling someone they miss them?"

Mark's face flushes hot, he rubs a hand over his face. "Hyung," Mark whines, "don't tease."

"But where's the fun in that?" Baekhyun laughs. After a beat, he adds. "I miss you too, kiddo, don't worry."

"Oh." He clears his throat. "How much?" He asks, voice small.

"Pardon?"

"How much do you miss me?"

Baekhyun doesn't answer long enough for Mark to think he's done something wrong, but then he laughs. Voice booming across the phone that Mark just _has_ to hang up. Body flashing hot and cold from the embarrassment.

-

From: Byun Baekhyun

November 3rd 2020. 22:33.

_this much_

[attached image.jpeg]

_that's just the sky??_

_exactly kkkkk_

It's cheesy as hell, and disgustingly greasy, and it definitely shouldn't make Mark as giddy as he is now, but he is anyways. Burying his warm face on his pillow like a lovesick schoolgirl. Donghyuck huffs annoyingly and swats his arm. Mark couldn't care less, not when he feels like he's treading on clouds, unaware and uncaring about the possible steep drop below. 

-

Baekhyun texts him up as soon as he touches down in the dorm.

He shows up fifteen minutes after Mark texts him back. Bundled up in a form-fitting hoodie and a long coat. His hair is back to messy black, and his eyes are puffy from sleep. He looks handsome, effortlessly so. Mark is out the door without needing any other word, pulling at Baekhyun's hand, tripping over his own feet.

"Slow down," Baekhyun's laugh echoes behind him.

They drive around Gangnam, a RnB album that Mark isn't familiar with playing in low volume from the speakers. Baekhyun hums to the tune, lulling Mark into a doze, watching shopping centers and restaurants fly by outside of the window. Their neon signs bright in the dark of night.

"It's been quiet without you," Baekhyun says, voice soft over the hum of the car.

Mark snorts, turning his head where it's pressed against the headrest to look at Baekhyun properly. "You? Quiet? I won't believe it until I see it."

Baekhyun just smiles, secretive, unlike his vibrant grins but no less pleasant.

For the nth time in these past few months, Mark can't help staring.

Mark's gaze lingers on Baekhyun's mouth, traces up the pointy slope of his nose, the endearing droop of his eyes, the way they dance, lit up by the streetlights from outside. The relaxed spread of his shoulders, the easiness in the quiet _tap tap tap_ of his fingers against the wheel.

He's so attractive, and Mark's chest is on fire.

Mark should know, he thinks, about the dangers of falling. About broken bones and the pains of stitching them back together. He should have learned his lesson, so many days and an open wound ago.

But Baekhyun takes his hand, links them together over the console box, _his_ bracelet on Mark's wrist clinking against the plastic, and Mark forgets entirely about hurting.

-

He makes a home out of a habit, and December passes in a flurry of Gayos, coffee-scented car freshener, and Baekhyun's soft hoodies in his closet.

-

Mark holds up the glass of soju, swirls the liquid around. He offers it to Baekhyun, who clinks his own glass against Mark's. They try to link their arms over one another, mimicking a friendship drink that only ends in Baekhyun yelping as some of the soju spills down his bare arm. They get the move right eventually, and knocks back the liquor at the same time. Baekhyun coughs almost immediately, eyes scrunching shut at the taste, he shudders exaggeratedly, and Mark laughs.

He smiles at Baekhyun over the glass, nods his head. "Happy new year, hyung."

Baekhyun looks at him, scoots over on the floor so they're pressed shoulder to shoulder. "Happy new year, Mark-ya."

-

"Wouldn't you rather be with your friends? How many new year parties did you get invited to this year?"

Baekhyun lifts his head to squint at Mark through the low light of the living room, he folds his hands on top of Mark's chest. He shifts, pushing himself up to properly look down at Mark. Mark feels half-lost, being stared down like that, like he's missing something that he should know.

But Baekhyun's lips stretch out in a soft smile, rectangular and easy, and he says. "I'm satisfied where I am."

Baekhyun shifts around again, making little noises as he gets comfortable on top of Mark, cheek pressed on top of Mark's chest. He sighs contently once he's stopped moving, and Mark hopes to God he doesn't notice the upward tick of Mark's heartbeat.

"Now hands in my hair please, thank you," he quips.

Mark only chuckles, and cards his hair through Baekhyun's hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Baekhyun sighs and leans into it.

Mark thinks somewhere along the line, that he's satisfied where he is, too.

-

Mark realizes, somewhere between his third and fourth lunch with Baekhyun on the first week of January, that flowers only grow if you water them. That love, in all its fantastical capacity to become storms, should only grow as flower beds. That Baekhyun blew dandelion seeds into the air, and Mark held his hand as he watched them fall to the soft soil.

Now he has a whole garden inside his chest, haunting and sprawling with dandelions, and Mark, helpless as he is, only watches them grow, and grow, and grow.

-

The suit is uncomfortable, probably because it wasn't _made_ to fit him like his other suits usually are. With how last minute Baekhyun asked Mark. Mark pulls on the lapels, unbuttons the suit jacket and shrugs, tries to get them to fit a little better. It's stretched a bit tight on his shoulders, but the sleeves hang a little past his wrists. Mark huffs in annoyance at his reflection in the mirror.

"Stop that, you look fine," Baekhyun swats him on the arm. Bumps Mark aside so he can fix his tie.

"I look ridiculous," Mark deadpans.

"You look hot," Baekhyun retorts, "now do my tie."

Mark takes the grey fabric between his hands, and works them into a neat bowtie on the base of Baekhyun's collar. "There." He pats Baekhyun's shoulders as he finishes. "Now _you_ look hot."

Baekhyun faces the mirror again, pushes his hair back to fix it. He chuckles. "Thank you." Baekhyun does look hot, his suit is custom, all grey lines and crisp white shirt. It's the same with some ten other suits, made months ago to compliment the groom, and it fits him like a dream. Mark feels slightly underdressed, despite the price of his own suit.

Mark watches Baekhyun fiddle with his Rolex through the bathroom mirror, and he feels suddenly uneasy.

"Hyung," Mark starts, rolls it out before he can stop himself. "Is this really okay? It's Jongdae-hyung's wedding."

Baekhyun meets his eyes through his reflection. "Of course," he says. "Jongdae said I could bring a plus one."

"Yeah but," Mark rubs the back of his neck, nervous. "I'm just.. not sure. I mean, it's a big day and the _only_ day for him and it's such a private event, and I'd hate to ruin it and--" 

Baekhyun spins around and grabs Mark's hands in his before he can finish. "I want you there," Baekhyun rushes. "It's alright. I want you there and I already told Jongdae."

Mark stares at their joined hand, and nods. "Okay, as long as I'm not intruding."

"You're not," Baekhyun reassures him, a finger touching Mark's bracelet. "You're not."

-

They get there early, because Baekhyun is a groomsman, and Mark tries his best to not seem out of place, chatting with Jongdae's family and friends. He's stupidly grateful for the managers that show up, some of them knowing him from their time being NCT's manager. He sees some of his sunbaes here and there too, and sticks to them as much as he can.

Mark grabs a flute of champagne, and nearly spills it on expensive satin when he whirls around.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mark rushes out. The person he'd stumbled to doesn't seem to budge.

"Mark." Mark looks up, and Jongin's face is looking down at him. "Here with Baekhyun-hyung?"

"Yeah," Mark answers. "Sorry hyung, I didn't see you there."

Jongin waves him off. "It's fine, you didn't get any on my suit." He chuckles. "Wait no, Jongdae-hyung's suit. You wouldn't believe how anal he was about this."

Mark shrugs, smiling. "He _is_ the groom."

"He acts more like a bride though," Jongin replies playfully.

Jongin's eyes focuses on someone behind him, and his face breaks out into a smile, so soft and pleasant that it reminds him of Baekhyun's softer smiles. The one he does when he thinks Mark isn't looking, sometimes.

"Well, Mark, I'll see you around," he claps a hand on Mark's shoulder, and then he was on his way, Mark sending him off with a wave.

Jongin walks towards a girl that Mark has seen a handful of times before and snakes his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

Mark turns around, and wonders what Baekhyun wants for dinner.

-

The wedding is a beautiful affair. The bride glowed all her way down the aisle, she seemed to float on a cloud. Baekhyun sang; and though he didn't cry, he was quiet. He sat next to Mark when the newlyweds started dancing, bodies pressed together, smiles visible even from a distance. Baekhyun rests a hand on top of his own thigh, close but not touching. His eyes are wet.

Mark reaches out, and envelopes it with his own, squeezing.

-

"You should teach me how to drive."

Baekhyun snorts. It's the first noise he's made since they got in the car and left Jongdae's wedding, and it eases the vise that had taken hold around Mark's heart. Mark cradles his chin in his hand, rests his elbow on the armrest of the car seat.

"And why should I?"

"So I can finally use my money and get an actual car and drive myself around."

"What, _the_ Byun Baekhyun taxi services not good enough for you?"

Mark laughs. "No, it's so I can drive _you_ around too. Be a good dongsaeng and all that."

Baekhyun hums instead of answering, and Mark wants to drop it entirely, but he just can't seem to.

"You're so quiet," Mark remarks softly. "Are you sad?"

Baekhyun waits a beat before answering. "No," he says, "I'm just.. contemplative. Jongdae getting married is a... big thing." He finishes lamely, a hand gesturing wildly in the air.

It is. Baekhyun doesn't talk about his feelings often, but Mark nods anyways, says anyways. "Well, if you ever want to talk about it."

"Yeah," Baekhyun says, "thanks Mark."

The silence that follows isn't heavy, isn't charged, it's just quiet. Quiet in a way that Mark has never been with Baekhyun. He can't stand it.

"So you do have it in you to _think_ after all," Mark quips.

Baekhyun just grins, easy and rectangular and just on this side of sad. "I think plenty. I just choose not to show it, out of modesty."

Mark wants to shake that last dredges of sadness from his smile. Wants the one that lights up his entire face and the room and Mark's heart. He leans over, the seatbelt digging into his chest uncomfortably, suit wrinkled beyond belief.

"Well, since you're so considerate," Mark whispers, "I'll give you a reward." He leans forward, hovers long enough to feel Baekhyun tense, to feel the scratchy wool of his coat under Mark's fingers, to catch a whiff of his aftershave, and presses a quick kiss on his cheek.

Mark pulls back quickly, returns to his seat with tingling lips and warm cheeks.

When Mark finally gathers enough courage to look at Baekhyun again, he's trying his best to suppress a smile, a slight dusting of pink on the tips of his ears, but the edges of sadness is gone from his face.

"Thank you."

"Of course, hyung," Mark replies, "anything for you."

It should be surprising, that he means it. Anything for Baekhyun. But it doesn't. It just settles warmly inside his chest, the fact that he would lay his life in Baekhyun's hand. Knowing that Baekhyun would keep it safe, would cradle is close and keep it where no one could touch.

-

Baekhyun drives Mark back to the dorms, because despite spending every single minute of his free time at Baekhyun's apartment, he still technically lives in the 127 dorms. Baekhyun is still silent when he enters the basement, but it's a different kind of silent. One that has Mark anticipating Baekhyun's every move from the corners of his eyes.

Baekhyun turns off the car, and gets out when Mark does, and Mark's heart does a stupid little swoop at the thought of Baekhyun walking him up.

He keeps close to Mark, enough that Mark can feel his body heat, but far enough that their hands are barely brushing. For some reason it's driving Mark insane. Baekhyun is touchy, and Mark doesn't remember staying this long without Baekhyun's hands on him.

Mark takes a deep breath to stamp down his tripping heartbeat, releases it in a sigh, and catches Baekhyun smiling beside him.

They ride the elevator in silence, and Baekhyun walks out first when the doors open with a loud ding.

They stop in front of the door, Baekhyun with his back to Mark. The moment seems to stretch out beyond time, with how heavy the air is. Ticking forever under the bright lights of the hallway.

Mark almost reaches out, almost grabs Baekhyun's shoulder, but then Baekhyun spins around, hands in his coat pocket, looking at Mark with an expression Mark can't read. And he's so handsome, with his tie and his top three buttons undone and his eyeliner slightly smudged, and his mouth pink from the tint.

He's so handsome, and familiar and everything Mark has ever wanted and needed.

Mark sees dandelions, and pulls Baekhyun in by the collar before he can think too long about it, crushing their mouths together. Baekhyun's lips are soft underneath his, giving readily for him. Mark expected fireworks, bells, church choirs. But there's only Baekhyun. Warm and solid under his hands, smelling like expensive perfume and coffee-scented car freshener.

Mark tilts his head, hands moving and curling around Baekhyun's neck to pull him closer, to kiss him proper. Baekhyun's own hands find their place on Mark's waist. Mark's breath stutters into the kiss. He feels so warm, like someone has set his blood on fire with every wet, languid slide of Baekhyun's lips against his.

Baekhyun pulls away, takes in a shuddering breath. Mark chases after him, ducks his head to kiss him again, but Baekhyun stops him with a palm on his chest, even if his other hand is still gathering Mark close by the waist. Mark pulls away, looks at Baekhyun staring at his lips.

"I'm not Jongin," he says, eyes flicking up to search Mark's, voice rough.

"I know." Mark replies, and presses in for another searing kiss.

-

Mark wakes up on a February morning to a garden full of dandelions, and goes out whistling to water them.

-

_So kiss me on the mouth and set me free_ _  
But please, don't bite_

-

EPILOGUE

"Hyung-ee." Mark nudges Baekhyun's foot with his toe. Baekhyun grunts instead of answering, eyes glued to his phone. They're waiting for Mark's other members to arrive, Baekhyun having driven him there, and Baekhyun is lying down on his back while Mark stretches.

Not satisfied with the non-answer, Mark nudges him again.

"What." Baekhyun sits up on his elbows, not quite glaring at Mark.

"How come we haven't had sex yet?"

The question evidently catches Baekhyun off guard, and his face goes through five different emotions (only two of which Mark can identify), before he flushes prettily.

"Um."

Mark raises an eyebrow. "Is that something you don't want to do? Because that's fine--"

"No," Baekhyun intercepts loudly, fully sitting up. "No." His eyes flit around nervously, voice dropping into a whisper. He's biting his bottom lip, and that's not helping with Mark's question.

"I do--want to--have sex with you." The tops of Baekhyun's ears go red, and Mark would coo, but Baekhyun licks his lips, looks up with hooded eyes at Mark and Mark forgets to breathe for a while.

"I've thought about it, a lot."

Mark swallows, crawls closer, until he's sitting on Baekhyun's lap.

"Then why not?"

Baekhyun looks anywhere but him, hands steadying on Mark's waist. "I. Um."

Realization dawns on Mark and he narrows his eyes at Baekhyun. " _Hyung_." He scolds. "Are you worried about my _age_?"

"I mean! I just--feel bad--"

"I'm only seven years younger than you are," Mark snaps. "And I've had sex before."

That has Baekhyun's gaze zeroing in on him. He inhales sharply.

"You have?"

Mark rolls his eyes, gets up and leaves Baekhyun's embrace to plug his phone to the speaker. Baekhyun whines pitifully.

"Wait, Mark, I'm sorry," Baekhyun whines again, going to chase after Mark. "I'm sorry, I'll think about it, I swear."

He whirls around to poke a finger on Baekhyun's chest. And damn, that's a sturdy chest.

"You better not only think about it because I really want to suck your dick," Mark huffs.

Baekhyun chokes on nothing, entire face going red.

Mark just sighs and turns to his phone cranking up the volume.

Baekhyun snakes his arms around Mark, pulls him in and flush against his chest.

"Sorry, don't be mad at me?" He pouts, starts kissing Mark's cheek. "I'll come around eventually, I just need a while."

Guilt sticks up Mark's throat. He doesn't mind if Baekhyun doesn't want to have sex. It's just that he wishes Baekhyun would _tell_ him why.

"I'm sorry, too," Mark replies quietly, fiddling with his phone. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I swear I'm fine if you don't want to do it. I just wish you'd talk to me about it."

"Oh believe me," Baekhyun croons, breath hot against his ear, and his arms around Mark tightens. "I've thought about one thousand ways to bend you over and fuck you."

Mark chokes on his own spit. "Hyung."

"Thought about pinning you down against the mirror, right here, and sucking you off."

Mark's knees feel like jelly, insides stirred up with every sentence out of Baekhyun's mouth.

"Or maybe have you against the glass, ass out, eat you out."

"Hyung--"

"Or over my couch, fuck you from behind."

"Hyung, you can't--"

"I thought about riding you until you're crying. I think you'd look real pretty when you cry from my ass. Or from my cock."

"Hyung," Mark groans, dropping his head back against Baekhyun's shoulder. "You can't--you can't just say stuff like that."

"But it's true," Baekhyun kisses the spot behind Mark's ear, and Mark shivers. "I just have my reservations."

Mark is close to tears _and_ to begging.

He puts a hand over Baekhyun's. "Whatever they are, throw them out the window," Mark says. "I'm an adult and your boyfriend and I really, really, want your dick."

Baekhyun laughs, warm and breathy, and turns Mark around. His eyes are blown, and he's staring at Mark's lips.

"Yeah, yeah okay."

Mark almost, almost thought they were gonna do _something_ right there in the still-empty studio, but Yuta opens the door, Jungwoo not far behind him and Mark deflates. Baekhyun gives him an apologetic smile and a soft peck on the lips.

"Sorry, I'll pick you up later, okay?"

Mark nods, stares at Baekhyun's retreating form forlornly, watches him exit the room, high-fiving his members on the way.

Taeyong calls them around almost immediately, and Mark tries his best to put it out of his mind.

-

Except it's like a dam has broken, and Mark can't just _not_ think about sex when he's with Baekhyun. He tries his best to lead Baekhyun on. Grinds against Baekhyun when he's sitting on his lap, "accidentally" grazes his knuckles against Baekhyun's crotch, palms Baekhyun's ass longer than necessary for it to be normal. Goes around in nothing but his very snug briefs in Baekhyun's apartment.

But he gets nothing. A withering stare at worst and a hungry, hooded gaze at best, paired with a peek of tongue going up to lick red lips.

It's driving Mark up the walls, and between his promotion schedule and spending time at Baekhyun's _not_ having sex (sleeping, he's just so dead tired on promotions), he's pretty sure his dick is going to fall off any moment now.

-

Baekhyun's picking him up for a date, because Baekhyun is actually a good boyfriend. And their relationship is so disgustingly domestic Jaehyun mimes gagging when he sees them sometimes, when they're just cuddling on the couch of 127's living room. Mark stands on the lobby, waiting for Baekhyun's familiar Audi to come into view.

When Mark opens the door, Baekhyun is dressed comfortably. A nice brown sweatshirt with a graphic print on it, with jeans and a long necklace hanging from his neck. He looks handsome. Painfully so.

Too bad Mark is going to ruin it any moment now.

Mark climbs into the passenger seat and Baekhyun flashes him a smile. His hair is growing too long again, curling over his ears, but Mark thinks it makes him look endearing.

They drive for a while before Mark speaks up.

"Hyung, can you pull over for a bit?"

"Why?" Baekhyun asks, but he does as Mark requests him, and as soon as he's pulling on the brakes, Mark is pulling his seatbelt away and he's crossing over the console to straddle Baekhyun's lap. Long legs folding on the narrow seat and arms going around Bakehyun's neck. Feeling his warmth, smelling his scent.

"Mark?" Baekhyun questions him, eyes searching, but his hands go up around Mark's waist anyways.

Mark's mouth descends on him, and then they're kissing, soft and tentative.

Indulging is a thing that Baekhyun always does with Mark, and when Mark teases his mouth open, Baekhyun just exhales through his nose and surges up, biting the bottom of Mark's lip and sucking on Mark's tongue. Mark whimpers from the back of his throat and grinds his ass down towards Baekhyun's crotch.

Baekhyun groans into the kiss. "Mark, our date."

"Fuck the date," Mark whispers to Baekhyun's lips. "I miss you. I want you."

Mark bends down to kiss the skin just behind Baekhyun's ear, taking the soft flesh of Baekhyun's earlobe between his teeth. Grinds down some more.

"Come on hyung," he goads, "take me home. And fuck me."

Baekhyun groans again, grabbing a handful of Mark's ass and squeezes. He's always been bad at denying Mark anything.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, come on." 

-

The drive back is tense, the silence electrified. Mark can't stop fidgeting. Half-hard inside his jeans already. Baekhyun keeps a hand high on Mark's thigh, the other on the wheel. It's driving Mark crazy, he puts his hand on top of Baekhyun's, and Baekhyun just squeezes, dares, brings his hand further up and presses it against Mark's crotch.

Mark whimpers, and prays that they don't meet any traffic jams on the way, or he's going to come in his pants.

-

The moment the door to Baekhyun's apartment closes, Baekhyun pounces, pinning Mark to the door with his body. Mark would mind, except he's too turned on to care.

Baekhyun rolls his hips forward, trapping Mark between himself and the hard surface of the door. Mark's brain short-circuits, head rolling back with a _thunk_. He can feel Baekhyun's erection pressing to his thigh. Hot and heavy and _big_. His breath stutters.

"H-hyung," Mark moans, hands scramble up to find purchase on Baekhyun's shoulders, blood running hot.

Baekhyun latches his lips on Mark's neck and sucks, the sparks of pain-pleasure makes Mark go limp, makes him bare his neck and spread his legs for Baekhyun's thigh to slink in between them. Baekhyun presses his thigh up, and Mark can't help grinding down, the friction sending arousal shooting up his stomach, electric to the tip of his fingers.

"Hyung--hyung, bed, come on," Mark coaxes.

It's a miracle they make it to the bedroom at all, Baekhyun refusing to get his mouth off of Mark even for a second.

"You're a menace," Mark laughs, arms tangled in his shirt, but Baekhyun pushes him back, pulling his shirt off completely, until he's collapsing to the bed with an embarrassing squeak. He straddles Mark without his shirt on, and Mark has a hard time making any sound at all.

Mark reaches a hand forward, stroking Baekhyun's stomach dazedly, petting his pecs and the slightly defined lined of his stomach, uncharacteristically silent, even for him.

"Like what you see?" Baekhyun smirks.

Mark blushes, swats Baekhyun on his very toned arms. "Shut up."

Baekhyun just gives Mark a _look_ , both amused and hooded at the same time, bottom lip caught between his teeth, that it has Mark flashing hot and cold all over again. He tugs Baekhyun up so he can kiss him properly. And it's Baekhyun instead, who's licking into the roof of his mouth and sucking Mark's tongue into his mouth like it's his job to ruin Mark from the inside out. Mark whimpers, tries to spread his legs but can't, with Baekhyun on top of him, shame forgotten in the press of Baekhyun's tongue against his.

Baekhyun is warm on top of him, broad shoulders covering his own, arms braced on the sides of his face, grinding down ever so slightly. When he pulls away Mark feels as wrecked as Baekhyun looks, his hair in disarray where Mark keeps pulling on them, cheeks flushed and mouth red from all the kissing.

"We should--pants, off," Mark stutters smartly.

Baekhyun doesn't mouth off, gets up quickly to shuck his pants off instead, and helps Mark with his, pulling his jeans down when Mark lifts his hips. Mark's dick springs free from the confines of his underwear and slaps wetly against his stomach. Baekhyun pauses, stares at him. Eyes blown wide and catching fire, darkening.

Mark flushes hot under the attention, swallows. He feels stripped and laid out bare. Even if he's already naked. His fingers twitch uselessly at the sides of his head.

Baekhyun nudges Mark's legs apart and settles between them, a hand leisurely stroking his own cock, the head of it red from arousal.

"I want that in my mouth," Baehyun says, tipping his head back, letting a long moan rip from his throat. He smirks at Mark when Mark replies with a whimper, that same hooded gaze making Mark shiver. "Later, though, wanna fuck you first."

Baekhyun leans down, warm body hovering over Mark, his eyes roaming all over Mark's face. He gives Mark a smile, gentle and soft, and presses his mouth against Mark's in a kiss. Deeper. Slower. And Mark feels like his heart is about to burst, so full of fondness that he can't help the tiny noises that escape him, slinging an arm around Baekhyun's shoulder to pull him closer.

Mark reaches down blindly, and takes Baekhyun's cock in his free hand, pulse ricochets when Baekhyun groans into their kiss. The skin is velvety soft, hot and throbbing under his hand. He strokes and pulls at the shaft. Relishing every time Baekhyun's breath hitches.

Baekhyun thrusts up into Mark's hand and just like that the tenderness of the moment is shattered, and Baekhyun pants into his mouth.

"Mark--Mark," he moans when Mark presses his thumb under the head of his cock. "Mark stop."

Mark does, and watches as Baekhyun too eagerly rifle through his drawer for lube and condoms, giving a triumphant little cry when he finds them, throwing them to the bed haphazardly.

"Now who's eager." Mark chuckles.

Baekhyun pouts, and it shouldn't be cute, not when he's drizzling lube all over his fingers, resettling between Mark's legs, but somehow it is.

"I like you a lot," Baekhyun says, presses a finger on Mark's rim. Mark gasps. "I'm excited to fuck you."

"Hyung," Mark says breathlessly.

Baekhyun smiles at him again. Reassuring. And his finger breaches Mark's rim. "Relax, Mark," he murmurs.

Baekhyun works him open slowly, takes his time to inch his finger inside, padding along the walls and adding generous amounts of lube at intervals. Soon enough he's pumping his finger easily in and out of Mark's hole. One finger turns to two, turns to three, and by the time Baekhyun's able to thrust his fourth finger in, pressing against Mark's prostate, Mark feels stretched so thin, strung up and worked up and so wet and so ready to get _fucked_.

"Hyung, I--I'm ready, come on."

"Are you sure?" Baekhyun asks, eyes glinting playfully. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Mark actually groans. Baekhyun hasn't stopped fucking his fingers into Mark yet. Mark would whine, but his dignity remains intact. "I'm sure! I'm sure! Just fuck me."

He presses up against Mark's prostate and Baekhyun's grin widens when Mark tenses, breath hitching. "Say please."

Mark bites his lip, Baekhyun is rubbing insistently against his prostate and it's _so_ good and he could cum like this but he also really, _really_ wants to get fucked by Baekhyun.

Screw dignity. He's getting dick today. Mark screws his eyes shut, feels his cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

"Please, _please_ hyung, _please_ fuck me, _please_."

Baekhyun has the _gall_ to chuckle. "Since you asked so nicely," he replies smoothly, voice dropping a timbre, and Mark shivers.

Baekhyun takes his hands off of him, and the loss of stimulation has Mark sighing. He rolls the condom on and slicks himself up with more lube. Moves Mark's legs around and lines up, but Mark pauses.

"Wait--hyung, I want--on my knees."

Baekhyun does raise an eyebrow at that, and moves back to let Mark rearrange himself without questioning him.

Mark gets on his hands and knees, dropping to his elbows and jutting his ass out at Baekhyun. "Please fuck me like this, hyung," he asks meekly, breathlessly, and throws a glance over his shoulder. It has the desired effect. Baekhyun's jaw drops open, and he groans loudly.

"Fuck-- _Mark_ \--"

Baekhyun curses some more but Mark is too distracted to register them by the way he's gripping Mark's hips and pulling him backwards, grinding Mark's ass to his hard cock. Baekhyun slots his dick between Mark's cheeks, presses it against his rim and Mark can't help the little moan that escapes him.

"Hyung come on--please, _please,_ " he whines.

"Yeah, yeah."

Baekhyun takes his time, presses in slowly. Each inch pushed inside has Mark feeling threadbare, his every single string plucked and strum into overdrive. He _feels_ everything, and it has his dick throbbing underneath him, has him muffling his shuddering breaths into the pillow.

Mark is barely keeping it together, stretched so wide and stuffed so full.

"Hyung," he sobs. "Hyung."

"Okay?" Baekhyun stills his hips, caresses Mark's shoulders, his sides, hands sliding up to toy with Mark's nipples, rolling the nub between his fingers.

Mark keens, jolts. He's so sensitive. Unusually so.

"Y-yeah, keep going."

Baekhyun thrusts in, bottoms out immediately and it has Mark unintentionally clenching around him. Baekhyun gasps, muffles his groan by kissing Mark's shoulder.

They take a moment to breathe, for Mark to adjust to the overwhelming feeling of being full. Baekhyun keeps whispering nothings into his ears, pressing kisses into his skin, like he can tattoo the words there.

"You feel so good Mark," Baekhyun whispers, "so hot, so tight for me. You're so perfect."

Mark wants to snort, wants to say something smart, but what comes out is a moan when Baekhyun starts moving, short shallow thrusts to get Mark used to the feeling of being fucked.

"Oh--oh, hyung."

"Still good?" Baekhyun asks breathlessly, his hands have come to grip Mark's hips.

Mark nods, answer lost when Baekhyun starts drawing out his thrusts, pulling out halfway only to push back in. He can _feel_ Baekhyun's dick stretching out his rim with every thrust.

Mark arches his back out of reflex, braces on his elbows and pushes his ass back to get _more_ of that feeling.

"Christ," Baekhyun curses, "you're so hot."

Baekhyun picks up his pace, sets a steady rhythm. His dick sliding in and out of Mark, deep where it hits. He shifts, bends down to grind dirty inside Mark.

Then Baekhyun is hitting his prostate, sending jolts of _everything_ burning up his spine and his stomach and Mark gasps.

"Hyung!" 

"Good?" His voice is strained, hips picking up his pace again.

Mark just pants openly into the pillow, tries to nod and widen his legs, hopes Baekhyun gets the message when Mark whimpers when Baekhyun hits his prostate again.

He feels filthy, fucked so well on Baekhyun's fat cock. Insides pounded into nothingness along with every sense of rational thought in his brain. His hips move back on his own to get _more_. He doesn't even register his own cock, needy and red from arousal, precum spitting steadily from the tip until Baekhyun reaches around to fist it.

Mark shouts, shaking, tears stinging his eyes. It feels _too_ good. Baekhyun hot and big and relentless inside him and over him and everywhere, pleasure sparking up his spine and down his toes.

Baekhyun's pace increases, matching the way he's jacking Mark's cock and Mark trembles, body confused between wanting to fuck back onto Baekhyun's dick and thrusting forward into Baekhyun's fist. Mark clenches instead, and that makes Baekhyun's rhythm stutter.

"M-mark you're so fucking tight--holy shit," Baekhyun moans into his ear, hand jacking Mark off furiously, hips slamming into Mark without much finesse.

It's too much, the thick cock fucking into him over and over again, Baekhyun's tight fist around his sensitive dick.

Mark keens, and his orgasm hits him like a freight train, too sudden and too much all at once. His toes curl, back arching severely as his dick spits out ropes after ropes of cum into Baekhyun's hand, twitching furiously with the force of his orgasm.

"Ah--ah--hyung." He moans, eyes rolling back to his head, mouth panting open, _drooling_ onto the pillow, hands fisting the sheets. Trembling.

Baekhyun fucks him through his orgasm, milks him until he's dry and whining from oversensitivity.

"Hyung--hyung, stop," Mark slurs.

Baekhyun takes his hand off of Mark's dick wipes and it on the sheets below. Baekhyun wouldn't do that, normally. He's a pretty clean guy, but Mark figures the bedsheet is ruined, with how much lube and Mark's cum are on there already. Mark also decidedly does not care enough about it.

For a second, there's nothing but the sounds of their breath in the quiet room. Mark lies boneless, fucked out and hazy, Baekhyun's dick still up his ass.

Until Baekhyun moves, grinds inside Mark and Mark gasps, whimpers weakly.

"C-can you tighten up for me, baby," Baekhyun stutters, breaking the stillness, voice strained and breathless. "I'm so close."

Mark does, even through his haze, clenches up as best as he can, and it's still so good, despite his oversensitivity. The punch of Baekhyun's dick inside him. Baekhyun leans up and fucks him without any actual rhythm, just thrusts in steady and fast, moans breaking over his voice every time Mark clenches around him.

"Shit I--I'm gonna--" and then he's cumming, bending over to growl into Mark's ear softly, and it's so fucking hot that it has Mark moaning again, dick stirring in interest despite having just cum.

Baekhyun pulls out gingerly afterwards, and they both gasp at the sensation. He makes quick work of pulling the condom off and tying it, tossing it somewhere around the bed, before collapsing next to Mark. Baekhyun stares at the ceiling, catching his breath, Mark on his side facing Baekhyun, his hand just bare millimeters away from Baekhyun's shoulder.

"Should've--should've done this sooner," Baekhyun stutters, brain not quite there yet.

"I told you," Mark muses sleepily.

"And I should've listened," Baekhyun sighs, resigned.

Mark just makes a noise of interest, and his hands feel around for Baekhyun's not-dirty one. He brings it up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles. Baekhyun's gaze on him softens, Mark smiles.

"Thank you, hyung," he murmurs.

"What for?" Baekhyun asks, smiling amusedly. "I think I should be the one thanking _you._ "

Mark shrugs. For the flowers, for bringing the sun into my life.

Baekhyun reaches around for a tissue, wiping his hand on it before rolling back on top of Mark, his gaze dark when it lands on his face. Mark shivers.

"If you mean it though, I know a few ways you can show your... _gratefulness._ " Baekhyun smirks, hair falling into his face and voice dropping an octave.

Mark smiles at him, and in a sweeping moment of tenderness that is out of place in this setting, he cradles Baekhyun's cheek carefully. Baekhyun's eyes widen in surprise, but then he's turning his head to plant a soft kiss on Mark's palm and Mark melts a little.

Flowerbeds in his heart and a sexy, sexy man on top of him, and Mark's never been more in love.

Mark flips them over easily, and chuckles when surprise flits over Baekhyun's face.

He starts kissing down Baekhyun's jaw, down to his neck and his chest. Mark takes his time. Bites into unblemished skin just to hear Baekhyun hiss, before smoothing the smart of it with his mouth and his tongue. He kisses the soft skin underneath Baekhyun's belly button, giving it a small nip. Baekhyun sighs contently, and Mark chuckles.

"Stay still, hyung," Mark mumbles against skin. "I'm gonna make you feel good."

"I love you."

Mark freezes. The words are said so softly, so quiet, that Mark might've missed it if he wasn't actively listening to every single sound Baekhyun is making. Mark looks up at Baekhyun, and he looks alarmed, a hand over his mouth. Like a deer caught in headlights.

Mark stops what he's doing and sits back on Baekhyun's thighs.

"You're not just saying that just because I'm about to suck your dick, right?" Mark jokes weakly.

He expects Baekhyun to brush him off, to shrug and smirk and say _yeah, of course_. But Baekhyun sits up instead, takes Mark's hand between his and hunches his shoulders down. He looks small. A frown on his face. Open and vulnerable in his naked state.

"No," he says quietly, flipping Mark's hand this way and that, "I've loved you for a while, now. Even if you don't realize it."

Mark's throat constrict tightly. He has the strangest urge to cover Baekhyun up and hold him in his arms until Baekhyun loses the tenseness in his shoulders. Mark does just that, scoots forward and drapes himself over Baekhyun until he has to lie down again with a loud oomph. Ignores both of their half-hard erections and kisses Baekhyun squarely on the lips.

"Of course I know, I know you love me. Nobody else would pick me up at three am in the morning after dance practice just so I can sleep in their bed."

"You sleep better here," Baekhyun argues weakly. "I just want you to be well-rested."

Mark huffs out a laugh. He looks at Baekhyun's face, the way he's looking at Mark like Mark is something amazing.

He can't look at Baekhyun in the eye when he says it, averts his gaze instead, feels heat bloom across his cheeks.

"I love you too."

"Oh no, Mark, you don't have to--"

"For a while, now," Mark cuts him off. "Ever since you sent me that stupid sky picture."

Baekhyun pauses, mouth hanging open, confused, before everything clicks and he's gaping, cock hardening under Mark's own.

Mark presses his lips in an unimpressed line, deadpans. " _That_ gets you going?"

"But--Mark--that was--last year--" and then his mouth in on Mark and he's kissing and kissing and _kissing_ Mark. A possessive hand on the back of Mark's head. Tongue inside Mark's mouth, teeth nipping, lips soft and insistent. He kisses Mark until Mark is breathless, torn down into nothing but gasps and little whines, erection rubbing gently between the two of them.

Mark feels feverish, flushed with how much he _needs_ Baekhyun again.

"I want you--want you inside, again, hyung," Mark says quietly, grasping at Baekhyun.

"Yeah, come on," Baekhyun replies, just as breathless.

They sit up, and Baekhyun reaches around for another packet of condom, tearing it open with his teeth. Mark helps him put it on, pinching the top of the condom and rolling it on, listens to the quiet hitch of Baekhyun's breath with his hand on Baekhyun's cock.

Mark swings his legs back over Baekhyun's lap, and then Baekhyun has both of his hands on Mark's waist, Mark reaching behind to hold Baekhyun's cock as he sinks down. He's still so loose, so open from being fucked earlier that it's an easy slide down.

Baekhyun stares up at Mark reverently all the while. Swallows Mark's quiet noises into his mouth. Mark gathers him close, snakes his arms around Baekhyun's broad shoulders and pulls him in, shudders when Baekhyun kisses the shell of his ear, the crook of his neck.

Mark moves, lifts himself up slowly before dropping down, making both of them moan.

"Mark," Baekhyun whispers, breath hot on Mark's skin. His hands are all over Mark's back, up and down his sides, guiding, grounding.

Mark lifts himself up again, and drops his hips down.

"I love you."

Mark scrunches his eyes shut, buries his whine on the meat of Baekhyun's shoulder. Baekhyun starts rolling his hips up, matching Mark's pace.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

Baekhyun whispers it across his skin, with every languid thrust of his cock inside Mark, and Mark can't help it. Whimpers and moans softly. He doesn't realize he's crying until Baekhyun is shushing him, pulling him back so he can kiss Mark's cheeks, his eyelids, kiss his tears away.

He hiccups, stares at Baekhyun through wet lashes and Baekhyun smiles at him, soft and vibrant and _pleasant_ and Mark's chest feels so full it might burst.

Baekhyun stops him from moving, coaxes Mark off of him with soft words and softer eyes, until he's lying between Mark's legs again, pushing them by the thighs and sliding back home slowly.

Mark just moans quietly, feels helpless and hot and stupidly in _love_. He pulls Baekhyun down again, needing to be close, and Baekhyun complies, bends down to kiss Mark again.

"Hyung I--"

But then Baekhyun is fucking him in earnest, hitting his prostate in one smooth thrust that the words dissolve from Mark's tongue, turns into a moan instead, head thrown back against the pillow.

Baekhyun noses at his neck, kisses the skin over his jugular.

"Hyung--Baekhyun--I--ah--I love you--love you," Mark babbles. Eyes still clenched shut, afraid of being overwhelmed if he opens them.

"Me too," Baekhyun pants, "me too."

His orgasm takes him slowly, this time, cresting over him like the moon rising over the sky on the sleepless nights he spends in Baekhyun's arms. Right here in this very bed.

Mark shudders through it, holding Baekhyun as he stills through his, groaning into the crook of Mark's neck.

Mark manages another soft "I love you," before he drifts off to sleep, the orgasm sapping everything out of him.

-

That night, as they're getting ready for bed, Mark slips into his soft pajama shorts and one of Baekhyun's too big shirt. He lays his head on Baekhyun's pillow, staring at Baekhyun half-sitting against the pillows, scrolling through his phone, glasses perched on his nose.

He kind of feels like he's drowning in Baekhyun. In the scent of him, in the warmth of him, in his presence. Mark finds he doesn't mind much. Feels warm around him instead, always. Warm in the way that only Baekhyun can bring about. Safe. Protected. And it fills him up, makes things fuzzy and pleasant. Always pleasant.

Baekhyun glances at him, notices him staring, and smiles. His eyes drift to the hand Mark has beside his pillow and he absently tangles their fingers together.

Mark can't help an echoing smile splitting his tired lips. He closes his eyes. 

Mark thinks that he must reek of flowers by now. Stems and petals of it growing out of his ears and nose and mouth. Mark can taste it at the back of his throat, feels his esophagus clogged up with crowns of dandelions.

That night, Mark dreams of a garden. Bright with sunlight and overflowing with all kinds of flowers. Dandelions are between his toes, covering the whole bed of the garden. Mark picks up a rose instead, and offers it to Baekhyun.

Baekhyun takes it between his fingers, and smiles blindingly over the crown. Rectangular and easy, pleasant.

+++

_Just for you_

_I bloom just for you_

+++

**Author's Note:**

> The italic phrases between scene jumps were songs! And here they are, in the order of them appearing:
> 
> 1\. Fall Out Boy - Miss Missing You  
> 2\. Troye Sivan - Bite  
> 3\. Troye Sivan - Bloom
> 
> Thank you for finishing this fic. Honestly, if you made it to the end, I salute you. Please let me know what you think of this fic by leaving a comment!
> 
> here's where you can find me:  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/carrotbakehyun) | [twt](https://twitter.com/diorboybaek)
> 
> All supplementary stuff about dandelion (Baekhyun's aesthetic, a side porn story), can be found [here](https://twitter.com/diorboybaek/status/1260095612302684160?s=20). 
> 
> Thank you for finishing this fic. Have a nice day! I love you <3


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